


Clarity

by DisasterCat



Series: Infinity Mirror [3]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Adora gets a hug, Alternate Universe - Adora Remains with the Horde (She-Ra), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Catra makes healthy decisions, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Horde Adora (She-Ra), I promise there is actual fluff in this one, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Adora (She-Ra), POV Catra (She-Ra)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-18 23:28:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterCat/pseuds/DisasterCat
Summary: Conclusion to the Infinity Mirror Series - in which Adora stays with the Horde, and Catra stays with her (until she can't), and Shadow Weaver manipulates them both (until she can't).Catra lives with the choice she made.Adora figures it all out.Set one month after the events of Part Two - Shadow Line





	1. Prologue - Catra

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, folks.
> 
> This first chapter is going up WAY earlier than I had planned - I haven't finished writing the rest of Part 3 yet (so it'll be a while until Chapter Two is out), but this chapter is short and fluffy and I figured we all deserve that after Season Three. 
> 
> ***If you're here, and you haven't read Parts 1 and 2, go do that first. Otherwise this will be confusing***

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF

Catra, ex-Horde Lieutenant, warrior, strategist, Commander of the Rebellion, and Guardian of Brightmoon, was going to prom.

If someone had told Catra a year before that she would not only be going to a party full of princesses, but also going as a princess’ plus-one, she would have laughed in their face – and quite possibly left them with some deep scratches to remind them of their stupidity in future.

But it was real. It was happening.

It all started when she managed to convince Entrapta to leave She-Ra’s sword in the lab for an hour or so to go and get something to eat. The Princess of Dryl had been working nonstop for over a month, trying to determine exactly what Shadow Weaver had done to the sword and working to reverse it, with the ultimate goal of finding a way to use its uncorrupted runestone to return the powers of Princess Mermista and Princess Perfuma.

The Princess Alliance had decided on this as the best use of the sword after Catra had impressed upon them the unlikelihood of Adora defecting to join the Rebellion.

It was rough, all-consuming work, and Entrapta usually forgot to eat. When Catra realized the princess was working without sleep and food, she made sure to stop by Brightmoon at least once a day – usually more – to coax the princess away from her dark lab and into the kitchens or, even better, out into the sun-filled gardens for a picnic.

They were returning from just such an excursion, walking through the shining halls of the castle, when Entrapta brought up the prom in passing.

“…figure out how to access the original First One’s code now that I’ve severed the connection to the Black Garnet. I was reviewing my logs from Mystacor this morning when a messenger dropped off the invitation for Princess Prom, so obviously _that_ distracted me, but—”

“What’s Princess Prom?”

“Oh!” Entrapta paused in that way Catra noticed she always did as her brain rerouted itself from one full-throttle train of thought to another. “Actually, ‘The All-Princess Ball’ to be precise. It’s a social gathering for princesses with food and music, with an emphasis on dancing.”

“Sounds nice. So when are you going?”

“Oh, I’m not going – I have so much work to do!”

“Entrapta.” Catra stopped and put her hands on the princess’ shoulders. “You need a break.”

“I have just taken a break.” Entrapta smiled widely. “Thank you for providing the tiny cupcakes, by the way.”

_How do I get her out of the lab to unwind? All she can talk about is that stupid sword._

Catra noticed – not for the first time that day – the dark circles around Entrapta’s eyes, the way that even the tips of her hair drooped with exhaustion. It was true Entrapta rarely seemed to sleep even at the best of times, but even by those standards she was running herself ragged.

_She deserves to have something else in her life – if she wants._

“You know, if you have some fun, stop thinking about the work for a while, you’ll probably be more productive or whatever after you get back.”

“Hmmm. There is scientific evidence to suggest you’re right.” Entrapta’s face fell. “But you’re my friend, as is everyone in the Princess Alliance. You all need me to figure out how the sword works. I don’t want to let you down, but that’s what will happen if I waste my time at a social function.”

Catra flicked an ear as Adora’s voice rang in her head.

_‘I have responsibilities. I can’t just run around doing whatever I want like you do!’_

But that Adora – with Shadow Weaver’s words in her mouth – was just a ghost, and Adora was wrong.

And Entrapta wasn’t Adora – Catra wasn’t about to let another one of her friends lose themselves to a bunch of heroic, self-sacrificing She-Ra nonsense.

Catra removed her hands from Entrapta’s shoulders and crossed her arms, thinking. “Is this strictly a princess-only thing?”

“Not quite – each princess is allowed to invite a non-princess plus one if they want to.”

“Well, I’ve never been to a prom before. Maybe I want to see what all the excitement is about.”

Entrapta blinked at her for a moment as, Catra assumed, she calculated all the variables of the situation, then:

“Oh! If I went, you could come as my plus one!”

“Great idea, Entrapta. It’s settled, then.” Catra clapped her hands together with finality. “I’ll go with you. We’ll find a corner to people-watch from, and I’m sure we can rustle you up some tiny food.”

The tips of Entrapta’s hair twisted nervously. “But what about the sword?”

“Entrapta,” Catra groaned. “You said we’re friends, right?”

“The data does seem to indicate that, yes.”

“Then as your friend, I would much rather you take care of yourself, go to this prom thing, and have some fun than that you exhaust yourself working on that sword. And I say that as one of those people who ‘needs you to figure out how it works,’ OK?”

Entrapta smiled appreciatively and tapped a gloved finger to her chin in thought. “I suppose it could be an excellent opportunity to observe the delicate workings of social interaction.”

_I have no idea what that means._

Catra patted her shoulder. “Definitely.”

“Catra! Entrapta!” They turned to see Glimmer rushing down the hallway towards them. A few yards away, she seemed to decide that conventional methods were too slow, and she teleported across the rest of the distance to appear by their side. Her face was alight and her eyes shining. She had a thick scroll in one hand.

“Princess Prom!” Catra lowered her ears as Glimmer shouted in her face. “It’s time for Princess Prom!”

“Yeah,” said Catra, taking a protective step back from Glimmer’s enthusiasm. “Entrapta was just telling me about it.”

Glimmer waved the scroll at her. “The invitations _finally_ arrived.”

Entrapta also removed herself slightly from the sphere of Glimmer’s excitement and added, for Catra’s benefit, “It was supposed to be held _much_ earlier this year, but it was delayed.”

“There was some ridiculous argument about whether or not Mermista and Perfuma should be invited, since they don’t have runestones anymore.” Glimmer rolled her eyes. “As if _that’s_ what makes someone a princess.”

“Oh.” Catra scratched at a spot behind her ear. “What exactly _does_ make someone a princess, then?”

“The rules,” replied Entrapta, lifting a finger demonstratively, “Aren’t really very clear.”

“Hence the delay. Princess Frosta finally decided that they could attend. Entrapta has never had a runestone, after all, and there’s never been any question about inviting her.”

“Precisely. Though I am glad of the delay – most likely I would not have attended if the event had taken place before Dryl was destroyed and I was forced to relocate here to Brightmoon. The probability that I would have taken time away from my work is quite low.” Entrapta smiled widely. “But Catra has proven to be an unexpected variable. Her interaction with me has upended all previous calculations on the matter, leading to what I must say is a far more desirable outcome.”

Catra watched Glimmer try to process what Entrapta had just said. The look of confusion on her face was fairly entertaining, but eventually she took pity on her and translated. “I think she’s just trying to tell you that I’m going as her plus one.”

“Correct! Thank you, Catra.”

“Wh—Oh!” Glimmer coughed, and she furrowed her brow. “You… You two are going together?” The pitch of her voice rose with each word.

“Of course!” said Entrapta. “Catra has agreed to assist me with my observation of the comingling of various social factions.”

_I agreed to what?_

“Oh.” Glimmer’s voice returned to its customary pitch. “Right, of course.” She looked down at her feet thoughtfully.

“I assume you’re taking Bow?” Catra asked.

“Oh, I’m… I didn’t…” Glimmer cleared her throat. “I haven’t asked him.” She looked back up at Catra briefly. “Yet.”

“But aren’t you two best friends?” Entrapta asked.

“Yeah,” Catra raised an eyebrow. “You guys do everything together, usually in matching outfits. I figured you would’ve asked him even before you got the invitation.”

Glimmer avoided meeting her eyes. “Um… Yeah, I just haven’t really gotten the chance. Don’t worry about it.”

_She’s hiding something._

Catra narrowed her eyes. She knew Bow had some sort of secret he was keeping from Glimmer – something outside of Brightmoon. If Glimmer was so hurt by his secrecy that she wanted to hurt him back, what better way than by not inviting him to—

Catra flicked both ears in succession.

_No. I’m not doing that any more. I don’t need to build an arsenal against my friends._

She forced herself to stop thinking about it. If Glimmer wanted her to know what was up, she’d tell her.

“Anyway…” Glimmer had perked up again. “I’m glad you decided to go to Princess Prom, Entrapta. What are you thinking of wearing?”

Entrapta blinked at her. “I don’t believe I understand your question.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes. “Entrapta, it’s not like you can wear _that _to prom.”

“But…” Entrapta looked down at her grease-stained overalls. “I always wear this.” The ends of her hair twirled and coiled nervously. “It’s… what I wear.”

Glimmer gasped. “You know what this means?”

“I do not.”

“It’s… MAKEOVER TIME!”

Catra glanced from the look of fanatic determination on Glimmer’s face to the look of wide-eyed terror on Entrapta’s, sighed, and interjected.

“Hey, Glimmer.” She stepped in front of Entrapta and nudged the Princess of Dryl towards the nearest air vent and freedom. “Actually I was having some trouble deciding what to wear myself. Think you could help me out?”

Glimmer squealed with excitement, grabbed Catra’s wrist, and pulled her towards her room.

Catra saw no sign of Entrapta in the hallway behind them, and she hoped the princess had enough good sense to get to a safe, makeover-free place and stay there.

**

Several hours and too many dresses later, Catra flopped, defeated, onto Glimmer’s window seat and groaned dramatically, draping one arm over her eyes.

“Don’t worry Catra – we’ll find the perfect dress for you, I promise.”

Catra groaned again. She’d lost count of the long, form-fitting dresses Glimmer kept insisting she try on. For some reason, she seemed convinced that Catra should wear something slinky and off the shoulder with a long slit up the side to accentuate her legs. Glimmer had even forced Catra into a pair of heels at one point, which she’d utterly detested and had kicked off almost immediately. With each new dress, Glimmer had assured her that she looked great, but Catra didn’t _feel_ great in any of them.

She especially didn’t feel great in Glimmer’s current choice for her – there were _ruffles_, and they _itched_.

There was a quick knock, and the door swung immediately open. Bow pushed through, carrying a white tuxedo on a hanger and speaking as he entered. “OK Glimmer – it turns out that Perfuma and Mermista are going to prom _together_, so they aren’t taking plus ones. I need to find another princess or I’m stuck in Brightmoon wearing this tux with nowhere to— Oh, hi Catra!”

“Hi, Bow.”

“You look nice.”

“Ugh.” Catra scratched at her exposed collarbone, where one of the dreaded ruffles had flipped up to rub infuriatingly against the grain of her fur.

Glimmer laughed nervously and punched Bow on the arm. “Hahaha don’t be ridiculous, Bow – you’re coming as my plus one, obviously!”

Two of Catra’s claws snagged in the ruffle. She muttered a curse under her breath as she tried – and failed – to tug them free.

“Ow!” Bow rubbed the spot near his shoulder where Glimmer’s fist had made contact. “But what about—”

“I’ve just been helping Catra figure out what to wear as Entrapta’s plus one.”

Catra gritted her teeth as she heard a tell-tale sound of tearing fabric. She stopped tugging and tried twisting, instead.

“Oh? Oooooh,” Bow drawled. “Entrapta’s plus one. Right.”

_I am honestly trying not to destroy this stupid dress._

Another of her claws caught in the sheer fabric.

_Forget it._

She ripped the ruffle free of the dress and shook the shred of cloth from her fingers. She growled deep in her throat as she watched it flutter innocently to the floor.

“Glimmer, why don’t I just wear a tuxedo, like Bow? That seems easier.”

Glimmer was silent, and Catra looked up to see that the princess was staring at her with her mouth open.

_Is that some weird princess taboo?_

“What?”

Glimmer slapped a hand to her forehead. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that before? You’ll look _amazing_ in a suit.” Bow chuckled, and Glimmer gave him a shove.

“I think we can get you exactly what you need, Catra,” Bow said. “But it’ll take me a few days to get it ready.”

**

_The fingerless gloves are… a lot._

_It’s perfect._

Catra stood in front of Glimmer’s mirror, admiring the cut of the deep purple tuxedo Bow had found for her – a perfect match to the color of her headguard. The bow tie was hanging open, draped around her neck, because neither she nor Glimmer could figure out how to tie the stupid thing.

_It looks cooler like that, anyway._

Glimmer stood to one side, smiling proudly at her handiwork.

“Those princesses don’t stand a chance,” she said, stepping forward to adjust the collar of Catra’s shirt. “_Everyone_ is going to want to dance with you. Who knows?” She raised her eyes to meet Catra’s. “You might even meet someone special.”

“Ew, gross.” Catra smacked Glimmer’s hand away. “And I do have a date, remember? Otherwise I couldn’t even go to this stupid thing. _You_ might consider me an honorary princess, but nobody else really does.”

“You’ve more than earned it.”

A warm fire kindled just below Catra’s sternum. She was still getting used to this – the honest recognition of accomplishment, without qualification or complication – though it was far more familiar than it had been merely a month ago.

“Anyway,” the princess went on, “I know you’re going as Entrapta’s plus one, but is ‘date’ really the right word?”

“Yeah, maybe not.” Catra paused. “She keeps calling it a social experiment. Should I be worried?”

“Probably.”

They both laughed, and, on a whim, Catra caught the princess by the waist, dipping her playfully. “Don’t worry, Sparkles, I’ll save a dance for you.” She snickered as Glimmer’s face went red, and she brought her upright again.

_It’s so easy to annoy her._

She couldn’t resist chucking Glimmer under her burning chin and shooting her a quick wink. “Maybe two dances, if you’re lucky.”

“Catra…” Glimmer let out an exasperated sigh.

Catra smiled, pleased with herself.

It was still a strange and heady feeling, to have such close friendships in which every interaction was not steeped in a history of shared hurt. 

The princess cleared her throat, and her expression turned serious. “What I really meant was that I think you should take this as an opportunity to just have some fun...” She took Catra’s hand hesitantly. “…and maybe try to move on from Adora?”

_Adora._

The Horde had been quiet in the aftermath of Catra’s betrayal in Mystacor. Without She-Ra to lead them, they had launched no major attacks. Shadow Weaver was, presumably, recovering – at least, Catra hoped so. The alternative was that she was preparing something extra nasty in revenge.

Catra had no way of knowing what Adora was up to.

Catra sighed. “Maybe...” She looked at herself in the mirror again, absently removed her hand from Glimmer’s grasp and fidgeted with the end of her dangling bow tie. “I don’t think it’s quite that simple, though.”

When Catra escaped the Fright Zone, she’d felt as though a piece of her had been left behind – a piece that cut her every time she touched it, yes, but still a part of her. Hating Adora had become a convenient way to fill that empty space – the one thing she could cling to that felt familiar.

But, in her oppressive guest room in Mystacor, she’d let it go – realized that if she didn’t, the familiar spite that filled that space would overwhelm her, which was exactly what Shadow Weaver had always wanted.

Now, without Adora herself and without hatred for what Adora had become, Catra was learning, slowly, what she could do – who she could be.

Occasionally, in the company of Glimmer, Bow, Entrapta, and, increasingly, Angella, she felt happy, and the happiness felt solid and safe, not like a moment stolen at the risk of twofold pain.

Often, though, she still found herself looking over her shoulder, waiting for everything to go horribly wrong, looking for that missing piece of herself that was inextricably tied to Adora.

It was hard – sometimes it seemed impossible – to learn to be happy when she didn’t feel whole.

“Hey.” She jumped slightly as Glimmer placed a hand on her arm. “There’s no pressure.” Catra tore her gaze away from the mirror to look down at the princess. Glimmer gave her a small, rueful smile, and her eyes were soft with something Catra almost thought was resignation. “About Adora. Take as much time as you need.”

Catra returned her smile and gave a brief nod.

“You’re right, Glimmer.” She inhaled sharply and squared her shoulders. “Let’s go have some fun. I keep telling Entrapta she needs to relax – I guess I do, too. I’ve got a lot of missed parties to make up for, after all.”

Glimmer’s energy returned. “Yeah! That’s the spirit! Besides, it’s not like Adora’s going to be there – she can’t be She-Ra because we have her sword, and I doubt the Horde has another princess stashed away somewhere.” She clapped Catra on the back. “So come on – we are gonna go to this thing, and eat too much, and dance like idiots, and have a great time.”

“And recruit Princess Frosta to the Alliance.” Catra was not about to overlook the opportunity to make political overtures to the largest Etherian kingdom outside Brightmoon – not to mention a princess who still had a runestone and all the power that came with it.

Glimmer flapped a hand dismissively. “Well, yeah, that too. But also have a great time!”

Catra laughed and took one last look at herself in Glimmer’s mirror. “I guess I’ll leave you to finish getting ready. I need to go get Entrapta – we’ll meet you and Bow back here when it’s time to leave?”

Glimmer was already tugging her purple dress off its hanger as she nodded. “See you then.”

And with that, Catra wandered into the hallway, peering into Brightmoon’s well-disguised air vents to find her prom date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glitra sneak-attack because I have a WEAKNESS.  
It's not tagged because it's not really going to be a Thing past what's in this chapter.
> 
> Also, most of the rest of this part will be from Adora's POV.


	2. Of Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora has a plan.  
Things do not go according to Adora's plan.  
Scorpia has a lovely time at Princess Prom.
> 
> CW: Panic Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooooooooooooo boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii I'm back!
> 
> So... yeah... sorry for disappearing for an actual, literal YEAR. I have no excuses - this hiatus has been a truly toxic mixture of poor mental health practices coupled with... well... [gestures to the flaming garbage pile that is the US currently]. 
> 
> BUT here I am again! Thank you all for being patient, and thanks to all the wonderful people who left comments over the hiatus - I was reading and appreciating them even as I was struggling to write. I appreciate you all. 
> 
> Anyway, here's the first real chapter of Part 3!

Adora had been skeptical, three days after returning from Mystacor, when Scorpia brought her to Horror Hall and suggested it as a possible base of operations. It was dingy, dirty, and poorly-lit. The shadowy corners made the hair at Adora’s nape prickle uncomfortably. Once they had requisitioned a few small floodlights and swept some of the dust away, however, the abandoned Hall proved to be a perfect headquarters for the Horde’s two princesses.

Not that the dust or the cracked walls mattered much. No one ever came there but Scorpia and Adora – that was kind of the point. The ancestral seat of Scorpia’s family’s power was tucked away in a relatively abandoned section of the Fright Zone – far from Shadow Weaver’s lair in the Black Garnet Chamber – and the two of them could meet there without having to worry about prying eyes and ears.

Currently, Scorpia was peering up at the faded murals of her ancestors with a discerning look on her face. “I always thought Madame Pointessa and Captain Pointy would get along well. If they were in the same picture, obviously.” She cradled her chin in one large claw. “What do you think, Adora?”

Adora clenched her fingers around the scroll in her hand. “Scorpia, can you focus for a minute? I asked you here for a reason.” Scorpia turned, and looked from Adora to the murals, then back again, without saying anything. Adora sighed. “Obviously Captain Pointy and Mr. Pointy would be best friends and Madame Pointessa is the one who would send them out on missions to have adventures together. Now can we start our meeting?”

Scorpia gave one last, thoughtful look over the wall. “Ah, the mysteries of the past.” She brought her claws together with a resounding _clack_ and spun to face Adora fully. “OK, what did you want to talk about?”

Adora held up the scroll. “This. Did you get one, too?”

“Oh yeah – the invitation to Princess Prom! Did you see? This year’s theme is ‘Winter Wonderland’ – how cool is that?” Scorpia waggled her eyebrows. “Get it? How _cool_?”

Adora resisted the urge to slam her face forcefully into her palm. “Scorpia we talked about this.”

“Ah, right. No puns during official meetings. Sorry! It’s just easy to forget sometimes because the only people at our official meetings are… you know… the two of us. So it kinda feels exactly like it does when we’re just hanging out and _not_ having an official meeting...”

“Please take this seriously.”

“Right! Sorry! You got it, boss!”

The two of them had taken to meeting regularly – in a more or less official capacity – since their return from Mystacor. Carving out a space of her own in which to work independently felt significant to Adora, and it had done her good to have someone to debrief and strategize with – someone who wasn’t Shadow Weaver. Her contact with the sorceress over the past month since the debacle in Mystacor had been minimal. Shadow Weaver had been recovering, and, without the sword – without She-Ra – there was no reason for Adora to make regular visits to the Black Garnet Chamber to recharge.

Adora had met this particular effect of losing the sword with quiet relief. She still wasn’t quite sure how to approach Shadow Weaver. She knew that she was done taking everything Shadow Weaver said at face value. She knew that she wanted to establish herself independently of the sorceress within the hierarchy of the Horde. She knew that, in a general sense, she felt better at a distance from her.

At least, she felt better most of the time. She couldn’t help but also feel a bubbling anxiety that perhaps Shadow Weaver had lost faith in her after Mystacor, that the sorceress was making and implementing plans without her. Every so often she was overtaken with a panic that this once constant source of purpose – and a twisted kind of validation – was silent.

But a strategy session with Scorpia usually helped with that. Making plans grounded her when she started to spiral.

Adora leaned against the remains of a broken pillar, unrolled a few inches of the scroll, and squinted suspiciously at the first lines of the invitation. “What do you know about this… Princess Prom?”

“Oh!” Scorpia sat across from her on a hunk of rock from the partially-collapsed ceiling. “Well, it’s like a big party for all the princesses.”

Adora blinked at her.

“You know, like a celebration? It’s supposed to be… fun. Fancy clothes, dancing, that sort of thing.”

Adora chewed at her lower lip in thought, wincing a little as the chapped skin there broke again. “So it’s not some princess trick?”

“Oh, no. They do this kind of thing all the time… So I’ve heard, anyway. I’ve never actually been.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” Scorpia’s face fell, and she rubbed a claw over the back of her neck. “My family never really fit in with the other princesses – even before we gave Hordak our runestone. And, I mean, I’m a Force Captain in the Horde. I don’t really think I’ll be welcome there.”

Adora looked thoughtfully at the thick scroll again. “But they sent you an invitation. They sent us _both_ invitations.”

They were both silent for a moment, and a tension grew in the Hall as they considered that.

A party.

A party full of princesses.

A party full of princesses just like the two of them.

Neither of them quite met the other’s eyes, neither quite admitting her interest.

If there was one thing Adora truly didn’t understand about herself, it was her status as a princess. She had spent so much of the past eight months trying to wrap her head around this incomprehensible new piece of information about herself, but she still didn’t have any satisfactory sense of what it really meant. When she’d had the sword, she thought it was a kind of twisted destiny – this had been corroborated by the visions and night-terrors that accompanied the weapon. According to Shadow Weaver, it was a tool – a failing that could be turned to something useful, something good – something Adora could make the best of in spite of herself, but only with the right guidance.

She didn’t really trust either of those interpretations anymore.

For the past month, Adora had been tussling with the realization that everything she had ever believed was built on a shaky structure of half-truths and outright lies by the people she had trusted the most. She didn’t know where she fit in the fabric of her world anymore. Her place in the Horde, and her destiny through the sword, had always put her on a clear and narrow path into the future. She had clung to this – that path made sense to her, if she warped the rest of her worldview to fit to it as absolute truth. That path was safe.

Catra had shoved her off that path. Painfully.

It didn’t do to dwell too much on Catra. Adora’s stomach clenched into an uncomfortable knot whenever she thought of her. That line of thinking was a mess of betrayal and pain and hurt, and, to add further confusion, a sense of wounded admiration for the choice Catra had made. Strangely enough, she felt neither bitterness nor hate – things might have been simpler if she did.

She needed to leave Catra behind, the same way Catra had left her behind. She needed to figure out her new path on her own.

Adora cleared her throat. “It’s probably a trap, right? The last time we went to a princess kingdom, it was a trap.”

“Yeah…” Scorpia tapped her claws together as she continued, conversationally. “But the prom is supposed to be neutral territory. The invitation specifically says that weapons aren’t allowed. And the Kingdom of Snows isn’t part of the Rebellion.”

They were both silent again, an unspoken suggestion heavy on the air between them.

Scorpia caved first, and spoke it. “Should we… Do you want to… go?”

Adora scoffed as though it was the most ridiculous suggestion she’d ever heard, as though she hadn’t been considering exactly the same thing. “Noooo…”

Scorpia chuckled uncomfortably. “Yeah, yeah. That would be… we shouldn’t, right?”

“Of course not.” Adora crossed her arms defensively, tapping one finger against her bicep. She glanced up and caught Scorpia’s eye, saw mirrored there the same uncertain curiosity that was clenching at her gut. “Although…”

Scorpia’s answer was quick, encouraging. “Yes?”

“Maybe if we considered it… a reconnaissance mission?”

“Oooh yes, yes – reconnaissance is good.”

“I mean, we could learn so much about the enemy at an event like this.” Adora’s face fell, and she chewed her lower lip anxiously. “Shadow Weaver would never authorize it, though. We’d have to do this on our own.” She glanced sidelong at Scorpia again and saw that she was similarly apprehensive. Such a move would be monumental – it would be an overt sign to Shadow Weaver that they weren’t necessarily respectful of her authority… or their initiative would impress her, and raise them in her esteem. Adora wasn’t sure which outcome was better, if either. “I don’t know if it’s worth the risk, though.”

There had been no major attacks planned since Mystacor. Shadow Weaver had remained holed up in her chamber full of runestones – recovering from her defeat, Adora assumed.

Adora had heard a rumor that Lonnie’s force was mobilizing for something, but she’d learned a long time ago to distrust Horde gossip – it always turned out to be little more than fodder for ambitious back-biting. There had been no strategic planning meetings, no debriefs from scouting missions, that would indicate a force would be sent out anytime soon.

She kept telling herself this, and swallowed the niggling fear that clutched at the back of her throat that she was missing something – that she’d been pushed out, that she wasn’t Shadow Weaver’s first choice anymore.

Did she really _want_ to be Shadow Weaver’s first choice?

Every mission Shadow Weaver had sent her on had ended disastrously for Adora. Thaymor was an ashen, bloody blur that fogged the back of Adora’s mind. The capture of the Heartblossom in Plumeria had directly led to Catra’s desertion. Taking Salineas and its Pearl had ended with Adora beaten and demoralized, collapsed on the fragrant earth of the Whispering Woods. The mission to the ruins of Dryl had been as unfruitful as it was terrifying. And Mystacor – that had been catastrophic on an entirely different scale.

The Horde’s goal was supposed to be the bringing of order to Etheria. Shadow Weaver’s strategy – or whatever endgame she was trying achieve – wasn’t working towards that goal. If they wanted to make any real headway against the Rebellion, they needed to take a new approach – preferably (Adora tried and nearly succeeded to shake the memory of the burnt-out homes of Thaymor) one that involved less brute force.

Adora looked down to her hand and saw that her fingers had clenched tightly around the thick invitation she held there. With effort, she relaxed them, the paper crinkling slightly as the pressure released.

“Actually…” she said, a little too loudly. Scorpia startled next to her, and Adora realized she’d fallen silent for quite some time while she was lost in thought. Adora stood suddenly and started pacing as the beginnings of an idea took her. “Hmmm. _Hmmm_.”

“Um, Adora, what are we doing?”

“Hang on, I’m thinking.”

“OK gotcha.” Adora heard the scrape of exoskeleton against stone as Scorpia dropped from her seat and started following Adora as she paced.

“Scorpia, this is great!” She turned suddenly, surprising Scorpia into tripping slightly over her own tail.

“Yeah! Totally great!” Scorpia picked herself up. “What’s great?”

Adora waved the invitation in her face. “This! It’s exactly what we’ve been looking for – a new strategy!”

Scorpia blinked at her.

“We can _talk_ to them, Scorpia. The Kingdom of Snows is neutral, right? Well, why don’t we just… ask them to be on our side?”

“Ask Princess Frosta to join the Horde?”

“Why not? It worked for your, family, after all.” Adora gestured to the imposing mural on the wall opposite them, the stylized outline of Scorpia’s grandfather staring down at them imperiously. “And this way nobody has to get hurt. If they join us, then we don’t have to invade.” She blinked away the persistent, smoky afterimage of Thaymor. “No villages get destroyed.”

Adora’s body was humming with adrenaline. This was the perfect solution – a far better way to pursue the Horde’s aims than Shadow Weaver’s destructive missions.

“Diplomacy, huh?” Scorpia tapped the edge of one claw thoughtfully against her chin. “So Superpal Duo goes to the Prom, we see what all this princess-y stuff is really about, and form an alliance with the Kingdom of Snows?”

Adora nodded, picking anxiously at the skin around her thumbs.

Scorpia beamed at her. “Adora, I think that might just be a great idea.”

**

Ten minutes after arriving at the Prom, Adora realized it was a terrible idea.

The intelligence the Horde provided on individual princesses, it turned out, was less than accurate. Princess Frosta, rather than being an imposing, merciless half-woman-half-ice monster, was in fact an imposing and merciless girl of eleven – pardon – _eleven and three quarters_. Mere seconds after she and Scorpia bowed before the princess, Adora managed to insult their host and thoroughly embarrass herself in the process. Her face stung as she and Scorpia hurried away from the dais under the hostile glares of the room full of princesses.

She had no idea what she was doing, and she felt woefully out of place.

Scorpia, by contrast, didn’t seem too perturbed by their disastrous introduction to Frosta. She stared, wide-eyed and full of wonder, at the decorations around them, at the other attendees and their outfits. Adora had no doubt that Scorpia had all but forgotten the real reason they were there and had gotten lost in the festive atmosphere of the place.

It was up to Adora to fix this on her own, then, but she had no idea how.

She smoothed down the front of her plain black dress, then tugged at the lapels of the matching, high-collared jacket she had put over it. She’d been utterly clueless as to what kind of attire was appropriate for a ball, but Scorpia had decided on a sleek black dress for herself, which looked, to be honest, astoundingly good. Adora figured she couldn’t go too wrong with something similar. She’d found something simple, sleeveless and knee length, loose enough for her to move easily. She’d stared at the reflection of herself in the dress in her mirror for a long time before finding the angular, severely-cut jacket to put over it.

The dress looked – well, she _liked _the way it looked, the way it felt… But some deeply-ingrained, critical voice in her head whispered that it was wrong to like it. The dress didn’t look like something a Force Captain should wear. It was too soft for that, and it made the shapes of her body altogether too round – not the sharp, clean-cut lines of someone who would lead troops into battle. She didn’t know who that soft girl in the mirror was, and Adora was too afraid to find out – she was too different, too unfamiliar for Adora to handle when she was supposed to be going on a mission.

Because that’s what this was, right? A mission. To help the Horde. It had nothing to do with her curiosity about the princesses. It had nothing to do with her doubts about the Horde.

Scorpia was excitedly pointing a claw and heading towards the long tables laden with food. Adora moved to follow her, and was just realizing that the exaggeration of Frosta’s monstrosity, the failure for the Horde’s official line to match up with the world’s reality, was not something that particularly surprised her anymore when Catra entered the hall.

Adora froze, and her palms prickled with sweat. She did not know how to feel. She did not know what to do.

Catra was not a princess.

Catra was not supposed to be here.

She entered with a large group – Adora recognized some of them as members of the Princess Alliance. They laughed easily with each other as they moved toward the dais and bowed before Princess Frosta without incident. Catra was dressed in a deep purple tuxedo with the tie left carelessly undone around her neck, all a match to the smooth, purple crescent of a new headguard.

Adora swallowed hard and stared at the headguard, careful to avoid looking at the Princess of Brightmoon. Catra really had replaced her, then.

The group turned, and Catra saw her.

Catra stopped dead in her tracks. Her face was unreadable – no longer smiling, suddenly neutral. Her tail lashed once, twice. Adora thought with a pang that not long ago she would have known what that meant. Now, she had no idea. The Princess of Brightmoon put a hand on Catra’s arm, her brow furrowed with concern. Catra took a breath, patted the princess’ hand, and said a word or two to the rest of her group. Then, straightening the lapels of her coat, she strode towards Adora with one eyebrow raised.

Adora clenched her fists at her side. Her body was screaming at her to fight or flee. She stayed rooted to her spot, struggling to keep her breathing regular. She was grateful as she felt Scorpia’s solid presence move to her side.

She had no idea why Catra was here, what she had planned, or what she could do to stop it. Adora had come here with ulterior motives, after all – it had been stupid and naïve to think that the Rebellion – that Catra – wouldn’t have some scheme up their sleeves, as well. And Adora just had to come here, had to answer an invitation that was _clearly_ not sincere, had to put not just herself but also Scorpia in danger from a Rebellion plot…

“Hey, Adora.”

“Catra.”

Adora attempted to stare Catra down with a stern expression, desperate to give the impression that she wasn’t wholly and entirely out of her depth. Catra foiled this by shifting her focus to Scorpia.

“Hey there, big gal, how’s it going?”

“Hey!” Scorpia beamed. “Looking good, wildcat! I love the tux!”

“Scorpia!” Adora hissed, “That’s the enemy.”

Scorpia’s face fell. “Yeah, but… Princess Prom!”

Adora groaned. “Never mind. Just… go mingle or something.” Scorpia should get as far away from Catra as possible. She’d be safer, that way. “We need to make a good impression.”

“You sure?” Scorpia put a claw to Adora’s shoulder in concern.

Adora took a deep breath and turned her head to face Scorpia. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“OK then, you got it, boss!” Scorpia moved away, leaving her more or less alone with Catra.

Adora turned back to Catra and narrowed her eyes. “What are you even doing here? You aren’t a princess.”

“Neither are you, without your sword.”

“You mean the sword that you _stole _when you tricked me into believing we were on the same side again?”

“Yeah, obviously, what other sword would I be talking about?” Catra’s tone was smug, but she couldn’t seem to look Adora in the eye. She fiddled, instead, with the rolled-up cuff of one tuxedo sleeve.

This made Adora feel a little bolder, a little more sure of herself. She put her hands on her hips. “_I _got an invitation. How did you get in?”

“You got an invitation? But you’re…” Catra stopped midsentence and rolled her eyes, running one hand over her face. “A princess without a runestone. Just like Mermista and Perfuma. I should’ve realized.”

“Exactly,” said Adora, confidently, to mask the fact that she wasn’t entirely sure what Catra was talking about. “But you _definitely_ aren’t a princess, Catra.”

Catra had the audacity to scoff at her. “Clearly, I’m here as a plus one.”

“Wha… ha… oh…” Adora mentally kicked herself. She really should have read the whole invitation instead of making the second obstacle course. “What princess invited you?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the Princess of Brightmoon, specifically the look of concern she’d given Catra before teleporting away with the sword in Mystacor and just moments before as Catra prepared to approach. It was the sort of worried look Adora used to give to Catra when she was about to do something dangerous.

Catra chuckled. “Hey, Entrapta!” Across the room, a short, purple-haired woman – not the one Adora had been expecting – looked up from the recorder she’d been muttering into. The Princess of Dryl looked exactly as she had when Adora encountered her before – grease-stained overalls, thick gloves, welding mask, and all. The princess lifted herself on her hair and made her way to Catra’s side. “You remember Adora, right?”

Entrapta studied her face. “Oh, you’re the less tall version of the tall one. Your sword really is a fascinating piece of technology—“

“Anyway,” Catra cut her off, “_This_ is the princess who invited me.”

“Oh yes! Catra is the only person I go to these social experiments with. She’s so observant!”

“Nice try, Catra.” Adora’s mouth ran away without her as she tried to make sense of the sour green feeling in her chest. “I know you’re up to something, and I won’t let you get away with it.”

Catra raised an eyebrow. “You really can’t relax for a second can you? Besides, if anyone was going to be ‘up to something’ at Princess Prom, it would be the two Horde Force Captains, not the Rebellion.” She narrowed her eyes at Adora. “I know _how_ you’re here, but _why_ are you?” Catra’s expression shifted to something softer than interrogation – something that seemed less a question than an invitation, the opening of a space. “What do you want, Adora?”

That was impossible to answer.

Princess Entrapta looked from Catra’s face to Adora’s and back again in the awkward silence that followed. “This is already the best social experiment I’ve ever been to!” she squeaked.

The soft look on Catra’s face disappeared as she broke eye contact with Adora, quirking instead into her familiar sardonic expression. “See?” she said, slinging an arm around Entrapta’s shoulders. “She’s having a great time. Why don’t you try to do the same?”

Adora crossed her arms defensively.

Catra rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m just here to have some fun with my friends.” Adora’s stomach turned over at the thought that by ‘friends,’ Catra did not mean Adora, that this category, of which Adora had been the only member for years, no longer included her. “I don’t want to fight, and anyway fighting isn’t allowed in here, so… truce? For just this one night?” Adora frowned. “Come on, all I’m gonna do is eat tiny food and spy on people with Entrapta. Etheria won’t crumble if you just let me do that. You won’t fail your duty to Shadow Weaver or whatever.”

“That’s not—” Adora stopped, sighed. “Fine. Truce.”

“Great. See you around.” Catra held an elbow out to the Princess of Dryl, who, after a moment spent deciphering exactly what the gesture meant, took it with a strand of hair, and they both crossed away from Adora to a large group of princesses gathered on the other side of the hall. Adora recognized Princess Mermista as well as the Princess of Brightmoon and her archer friend, and there were several other unfamiliar princesses assembled there, as well.

Adora watched, her brow furrowed, as they welcomed Catra easily, happily, into their group. Entrapta started talking excitedly about something, gesticulating wildly with both hands and hair, and Catra turned her full attention to the princess. At that point, Adora’s view of her former Lieutenant was cut off as several of the princesses, obviously led by Glimmer, stepped protectively in front of Catra and glared pointedly at Adora.

She gulped, looked away quickly, and went to find Scorpia.

**

Catra did significantly more than eat tiny food and spy on people, especially once the dancing started. Adora tried not to watch her, tried to focus on other things, on… reconnaissance… but her eyes kept catching on the deep purple of Catra’s tuxedo, the glint of lights off her new headguard, the playful flick of her tail as she laughed with her… friends. Adora also couldn’t help but notice that Catra moved differently – she had always been graceful, but now she moved with a kind of loose-limbed confidence, a lithe surety that left Adora a little bit breathless.

Catra moved, Adora realized, like she felt safe. 

Had Catra ever moved that way when she was with Adora? She couldn’t remember, and she turned away from the sight to nurse the twin aches of jealousy and shame she felt at seeing it now.

Catra was strong. Catra was safe. Catra was focusing her considerable talents towards something larger than herself. It was everything Adora had ever wanted for her, everything she’d tried and miserably failed to give her in the Horde. It hurt to see her sharing all of that with someone else. It hurt to know that Adora had fallen so woefully short of giving Catra what she deserved.

She glanced over her shoulder, back towards where she’d last seen Catra, but saw instead the Princess of Brightmoon giving her another glare that could’ve melted the ice of the palace around them. The princess took a step towards her, and Adora prepared herself for some kind of altercation – she widened her stance a bit, curled her hands into fists, just in case.

The princess stopped abruptly in her tracks as the music changed and Catra appeared beside her. With a smirk, Catra extended a hand to the princess, who blinked and colored slightly before taking it. Adora swallowed another sour green feeling as Catra led the Princess of Brightmoon out onto the dance floor – she thought maybe she would’ve preferred a fistfight with the princess to this.

Adora only watched until Catra dipped the princess dramatically – which caused them both to break out into laughter – and then she resolutely turned her back on the couple and headed to find Scorpia.

As she wove her way through the assembled princesses, Adora couldn’t help but notice the number of smiles, the volume of laughter, that surrounded her. She had never experienced anything quite like it, and it was more than a little overwhelming.

She felt so wrong here, and she didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She wasn’t quite ready to admit to herself that she wished she felt like she belonged.

She found Scorpia by the food.

“Adora,” she said, around a mouthful, “This food is all kinds of colors and it’s not bar-shaped. You have to try it!” She held out a claw in which was a dark, roundish cake with a smear of something bright and blue on top. Adora looked at it skeptically. “You won’t regret it, I swear.”

“Ok,” Adora grumbled, and took the food.

“I – I don’t even know what’s in this.” Scorpia continued to ramble, turning away from Adora. “Garcon? Excuse me…” Before Adora could stop her, Scorpia wandered off, leaving her immediately and anxiously alone once more.

Adora shrugged, sighed, and took a bite.

Scorpia had not been wrong. This was… She didn’t know food could taste like this. She couldn’t really think of a good reason for it to taste this good, nutritionally speaking, but she wasn’t complaining. She stuffed the rest of it in her mouth hurriedly.

She jumped at the sound of a familiar laugh behind her.

“I knew you’d like princess food.” Catra sauntered past, snatched a handful something green and crunchy-looking from the table, and tossed a few pieces into her mouth. She rested one hip against the table and surveyed Adora as she chewed. She wore an amused expression, but Adora thought she caught something else underneath it – something wistful, maybe.

Adora shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

“So…” Catra turned slightly so that she wasn’t facing Adora fully anymore, looking out towards the dance floor, instead. “What do you think of Princess Prom so far? Pretty different from anything we had in the Fright Zone, huh?”

Was Catra… making _small talk_?

Adora was fairly certain this had never happened before. It either meant that Catra had changed so much since she’d left the Fright Zone that Adora could barely recognize her anymore (which part of her realized was undoubtedly true) or Catra was trying to distract her, throw her off while some Rebellion scheme unfolded (which the same part of her brain told her was unlikely).

She thought of the Princess of Brightmoon laughing in Catra’s arms and felt the now-familiar coil of jealousy in her chest. She crossed her arms and ignored the part of her brain that was screaming sense at her.

“It’s not so great.”

Catra half-turned and raised an eyebrow at her, blue eye sparkling with an infuriatingly _knowing_ amusement.

“Well clearly you’ve been doing something wrong.” As if the musicians had been waiting for some kind of cue, the song changed at that moment. Catra pushed off from the table, smirked, and extended a hand to Adora.

Adora stared at the proffered hand and chewed indecisively on her lip.

“Come on Adora, you might as well make the most of a night away from the Fright Zone.” Catra’s smirk disappeared, and her face fell into that wistful _something_ again. “Truce, remember?”

Adora squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply.

This was a terrible idea.

She took Catra’s hand.

Catra put a gentle pressure on her fingers before pulling her onto the dancefloor.

Adora mirrored Catra’s movements cautiously. It felt strange to be so close to her again, and Adora couldn’t help but recall that the last time they’d been like this, Catra had been lying to her.

She couldn’t trust Catra.

Something must have shown on her face, because Catra spoke up. “Careful Adora, you’ll give yourself a headache with that expression.” Catra raised her hand a little, stopped it awkwardly in midair, and brought it back down. It took Adora a moment to realize that she’d been about to reach for Adora’s furrowed brow, to place one teasing finger there to get her to relax just like she’d always used to.

That broke something open in Adora’s chest that she hadn’t realized was still there. She chose to disbelieve it, was aware of the choice, chose it anyway.

“I know you’re up to something, Catra.”

Catra’s eyebrows shot up in what seemed to be genuine surprise, then her face settled back into her characteristic smirk. “What am I up to, Adora?” She sounded almost tired.

“I… I don’t know, yet,” Adora stuttered, aware that her face must be flushing. “But I’ll figure it out. And I’ll stop you.”

Catra spun out from her, the tips of her fingers just barely clinging to Adora’s, and she chuckled.

Adora persisted. “Whatever you’re planning, Catra, it won’t work.”

“Oh really?” Catra spun in once more, pressing her back forcefully into Adora, winding her slightly, and purred into her ear. “Maybe it already has.”

Adora paled and stiffened.

Catra twirled away from her again, snorting with laughter. “Obviously I’m _joking_, Adora. You should see your face right now.” She moved close again, putting one hand on Adora’s shoulder and swaying with the music. “You’re taking this whole thing way too seriously. It’s just a party.” The smirk on Catra’s face softened, and she took one of Adora’s hands lightly in her own, running her thumb gently over Adora’s nailbeds, raw and ragged from weeks of anxious picking. She spoke softly, without a trace of sarcasm. “Try to relax.”

Adora was lost for a moment in the touch, in the tone of Catra’s voice. It was almost familiar – almost like their old intimacy, but something felt… different. Somehow now, with the two of them on opposite sides of a war, the gesture of care felt more genuine,_ less_ complicated, than it had when they were both trapped in the Horde.

Trapped?

When had she started thinking of her position in the Horde in quite those terms?

She let her thoughts spiral, imagined briefly that this – the two of them swaying close – was real, was permanent. She imagined that she’d done the impossible on any of the number of occasions Catra had asked her to and left the Horde. She imagined that she had a place here, among all these princesses who smiled and laughed and touched each other so easily.

A beautiful wish.

Before she found her way back to reality, Catra had spun away from her, fingers trailing across Adora’s palm in a lingering touch.

Dimly following the example of the other dancers, Adora turned to catch the hands of her next partner.

The Princess of Brightmoon scowled up at her.

Adora was catapulted fully into the present, and she gulped nervously.

“Um.”

The princess grasped Adora’s hands forcefully and began to jerk the both of them angrily through the dance steps.

“Listen up, Horde scum,” she growled. “I don’t know why you’re here or what you’re trying to pull, but I am _not_ letting you hurt Catra again. _None of us_ is letting you hurt her again.”

“I…” Adora stared, unseeing, as the Princess of Brightmoon continued to scowl at her. She didn’t want to hurt Catra – she had _never_ wanted to hurt Catra. But that didn’t seem to stop it from happening.

And yet…

“She can take care of herself,” Adora said, simply, and only then realized how strongly she believed that. Catra had always been strong – the strongest and smartest person Adora had ever known. The understanding of that had gotten muddied for Adora at some point, replaced instead by the need to save Catra – from what, she had never known exactly (or, perhaps, she had simply been too afraid to acknowledge). She’d been driven for years by the impulse to _make it safe_.

Making it safe meant doing her best – or better, preferably. It meant satisfying Shadow Weaver’s expectations. It meant stretching herself in every direction as far as she could go and farther until she didn’t know which way was up and didn’t even want to ask.

But if Catra had made a safe place for herself with the princesses, then what was the point of that impulse in Adora anymore?

Some tired part of her brain mumbled about duty and destiny, and Adora’s view of the room began to implode.

She stood frozen momentarily. The music slipped away from her, and she was vaguely aware of bodies moving around her – partners were changing, again. She caught a flash of purple from the corner of her eye – Catra was coming back.

Adora started walking.

She wasn’t sure where she was going – she just knew she needed to get away from all the laughter and easy touches and _happiness_ in the hall.

Her thoughts kept spiraling. She didn’t belong here, couldn’t do anything of use here. Whatever reasoning she’d come up with to justify this ‘mission’ wasn’t enough – it had been a stupid idea. Foolish, really, for her to think she could do something on her own without any guidance at all. She was in free-fall now – out of the Fright Zone for only a few hours and already she was falling apart without someone to tell her what to do. Shadow Weaver had always told her she was nothing without her guidance – what better proof did she need than this, panicking in the middle of a stupid dance, when she was supposed to be practicing diplomacy?

When she became aware of herself again, she found she had made her way outside. The cold mountain air stabbed through her with each ragged, uneven breath, but she felt like she was on fire.

“-ora? _Adora!_”

Purple again – Catra had followed her.

She reached out.

“It’s… It’s hot…” she mumbled.

“Adora, I’m gonna take your jacket off, OK?” Catra’s voice was gentle but firm, and Adora nodded – or thought she did. She soon felt cold air on her exposed arms.

“Adora, stay with me.” She was dimly aware of Catra kneeling next to her – or were they sitting? There was air, now, but everything in her line of sight still seemed to be imploding.

“_Adora_.” She felt a solid pressure against her sternum, grounding her. Under the calming weight her breath slowed and evened out, and her world gradually expanded again. She blinked, and finally saw Catra’s face before her, eyes full of concern. She glanced down and realized that the grounding pressure on her chest came from Catra, that she’d taken one of Adora’s hands in her own to press the palm to her sternum. As Adora looked down, Catra dropped her hand to let her continue the pressure on her own.

She was sitting on a bench outdoors – a balcony overlooking the valley below the mountainous palace. Catra knelt on the ground beside her, looking up into Adora’s face with concern. Chilly mountain breeze tousled both their hair lightly.

Adora realized that, at some point, she had clutched Catra’s other hand tightly. She’d fallen back on some instinct, and as she stared at her white-knuckled grip on Catra’s fingers she was momentarily thrown back into a memory of herself as a junior cadet, breath shaky and shallow in the locker room after an interview in which Shadow Weaver had impressed upon her the importance of becoming a Force Captain – the _best_ Force Captain. Her clammy fingers had wrapped so tightly around Catra’s. It must have hurt, but Catra hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t said anything, just stayed with her until she could breathe again.

Just like she was staying, now.

“You wanna tell me what just happened?” asked Catra, quietly.

Adora pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head.

Catra sighed. “Ok.” She started to pull away, but Adora’s grip on her hand was still tight. Catra paused, then shifted so that she was sitting on the bench next to her, but did not try to break the hold.

Adora took a few deep, shuddering breaths.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Catra gave a soft chuckle. “It’s not like I hate you.” She lowered her ears. “Besides, I’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“Not as much as me,” Adora muttered.

“What?” The tip of Catra’s tail twitched, ever so slightly.

Adora was silent.

Catra flicked an ear. They were silent a moment more, then Catra’s expression shifted to something unreadable.

“What?”

“It’s just… Your dress.” One corner of Catra’s mouth crooked upwards. “You look…” The curve of her lips was not unkind, “…soft.”

Adora crossed her arms and looked away, suddenly very conscious of the absence of her angular jacket. “Weak, you mean.”

“That’s not what I said.” Adora glanced back up and caught Catra’s eye. She was gazing at her earnestly.

Adora couldn’t handle that expression – it was something open and sure and hopeful that she’d never seen on Catra’s face before.

For the second time that night, something broke in her. She let go of Catra, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she gasped. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“Adora –”

“I thought I could do something on my own, organize my own operation, but I’m just useless.”

Catra paused, and Adora could feel her body shift and tense. She imagined Catra’s ears would be pricked forward.

“Shadow Weaver didn’t send you?”

“No,” Adora whispered, miserably. “She doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Why did you come?”

“It’s stupid.” Catra waited for her to answer. “I thought… maybe diplomacy…” Adora knew that Catra would see through any lie – including the lies Adora had told herself – and sighed. “I wanted to see…” she gestured vaguely with one hand, still keeping the other pressed to her face, “…_this. _I wanted to know what the princesses were like.” She peeked through her fingers at Catra. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

Catra chuckled softly again. “Yeah I didn’t expect to see you, either. At least we know we’re both still idiots.” Adora sobbed out a wet laugh despite herself. Catra’s tone, still soft, turned serious. “Learn anything interesting? About the princesses, I mean.”

Adora wasn’t quite sure why she answered. One small, irritating part of her still screamed that Catra was untrustworthy – that it was precisely this kind of soft moment that she had used to her advantage before. Something, though, felt different this time – had felt different all night. It had something to do with the gentle, patient way Catra had approached her all evening – the space she had opened up the moment she asked what it was Adora wanted.

Adora took a deep breath and finally raised her head. She wiped ineffectually at her eyes for a moment before answering. “They all seem so… _happy_.” She turned to Catra. “How? Why?”

Catra’s face still held that soft and open expression that startled Adora. “Honestly? I’m still figuring that out myself.” She gave a small smile. “They…They rely on each other. I think that’s part of it.” Catra’s smile disappeared, and her expression darkened.

All night Adora had struggled to read Catra, felt disconnected from her, but now she followed her train of thought immediately and instinctively.

Why hadn’t relying on each other been enough for the two of them?

She heard Catra inhale sharply as she turned to face her fully. “Adora, I want you to know,” and Catra’s expression had opened again – that look that Adora had always chased after but never found in the Fright Zone. “I miss you.”

Adora swallowed hard. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear Catra say that.

Catra took her hand and squeezed it gently. “But I don’t miss being with you.”

She felt as though her breath had been stolen from her. She stared at their intertwined fingers and thought of the red crackle of magic that bypassed her to target Catra, the calculating look in Catra’s eyes as she curled away from her in their bed, the cut of Catra’s claws into her back.

She took a deep breath, and thought then of Catra’s happy smile as she’d entered the hall that night with her new friends, of the easy way she’d moved all night, of the heartfelt determination in her voice in Mystacor as she told Adora she was done living in a broken world.

“I… understand.” Adora couldn’t stop a few more tears from rolling down her cheek. “I think I understand.”

She managed to look back up at Catra again. Her eyes and ears were downturned.

“I’m sorry…” Adora’s voice broke, and she tried again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t…”

“I know.” Catra gave her a small smile and wiped the tears from her cheek with one thumb. “In your defense, you had a lot of other things on your mind.” Adora let out something between a sob and a laugh, and Catra brought her hand to the back of Adora’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “We both did.”

Adora brought one hand up to rest on Catra’s wrist and hesitantly wrapped her other arm around Catra’s waist, pulling her closer. She knew she shouldn’t. She still wasn’t really sure she could trust Catra, but being close to her felt right. It felt right in the way it always had, even when everything around them was wrong.

“I wish…” Catra swallowed and looked away.

Adora took a deep breath and continued where Catra left off. “I wish this was all there was to us.” Catra met her eyes again, curious glints of blue and yellow in the half-dark. “Dressing up and dancing...” Adora closed her eyes. “And going home… together. I wish the rest of it…” And Adora knew that Catra was filling in the blanks with her: _the war, Shadow Weaver, the sword, She-Ra, that stolen skiff._ “…just _wasn’t_.”

Catra gave a tiny sigh. “Yeah.”

They breathed together quietly for a few moments, listened as the music inside the hall slowed, stopped, and changed.

Adora pulled away. “I should go.”

“Adora,” Catra caught both of her hands. “Please… stay.” It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t even a plea – not in the way this particular request had come before, not some overwhelming appeal bound up with desperate need. These weren’t the forceful, near-angry words that Adora had come to expect from Catra. They were – Adora realized – what Catra had been offering her all night: an invitation.

Catra was offering her a choice.

Catra was asking, quietly, gently – so different from any way she’d phrased it before:

_Do you want this? Do you want me?_

Without really thinking about it, Adora slowly laced their fingers together.

Did it matter what she wanted? What about what she deserved?

Adora stared at their hands. Would staying here really fix anything? She thought of the smiling princesses inside the hall, of the wide, unfamiliar world outside the Fright Zone. It was terrifying. She thought also of Thaymor, the blood and the ash – wasn’t it too late for her to make this choice? Even if she could step away from everything she’d ever known, did she really deserve to be one of those smiling people? _Could_ she even be one of them?

She looked up into Catra’s eyes and got lost there.

Catra was happy with the princesses. She was safe and strong in way she had never been with Adora. Why would she want Adora now? She’d already said she didn’t miss being with her.

Hadn’t they hurt each other enough?

She opened her mouth and honestly didn’t know what she was about to say.

Before she could say anything, the moment was broken as one of Catra’s ears twitched up, and her expression changed – confusion.

“Do you hear that? It’s like…”

Adora’s eyes widened as, over Catra’s shoulder, a beam of green built and hurtled towards them.

“Catra look out!” She dove forward and tackled Catra, just knocking her out of the path of the laser fire that shot overhead and crashed into the wall of the palace.

Adora covered Catra’s body with her own as several more blasts landed near them, spraying a mixture of rock, ice shards, and meltwater over them. Panicked yells emanated from the dance hall.

The moment there was a lull, Catra pushed her off and ran to the edge of the balcony. “That’s Horde weapons fire.” Her voice was a low growl, and her tail was straight and tense. Adora struggled upright to join her and saw that she had dug her claws into the ice-covered railing. “This was quite a plan, Adora. I really didn’t see it coming, though I guess I deserve this.”

Panic surged in Adora’s chest. “No! Catra I don’t know what this is!” She looked down into the valley below them, towards the source of the laser fire. It was crowded with Horde tanks, and spidery bots were already making their way up the side of the mountain. “This is… The ball is supposed to be neutral territory – the Kingdom of Snows isn’t even part of the Rebellion! The Horde shouldn’t be here.”

Catra turned to her and she saw there a moment of hurt, a look of betrayal, until her expression softened at something she saw in Adora’s face. “I… believe you.” They both flinched as another blast landed high and to their left, scattering more debris and meltwater onto the balcony. “But if you aren’t in charge here, then who…”

They both glanced down into the valley, towards a small figure standing proudly on one of the tanks about to fire, and answered at the same time.

“Lonnie.”

Adora squared her shoulders. “I can talk to her. I can get her to stand down.” She thought for a moment. “I may not be She-Ra anymore, but Scorpia and I should have enough clout between the two of us to stop the attack – at least temporarily.” She glanced at Catra. “Long enough for you to get everyone out.”

Catra stared at her for moment, face slack with surprise, before another blast snapped her back to attention. “I’ll make sure no one inside bothers you.” Adora nodded, and turned to find Scorpia. Catra’s voice stopped her. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because this is wrong.” Adora curled her hands into fists by her sides. “This is a peaceful gathering. It’s neutral – it has nothing to do with the Rebellion or with the war. It’s…” she hunched her shoulders. “It’s like Thaymor, and I won’t do that again.”

Catra came forward, stepping carefully around the larger chunks of debris, and put a gentle hand on Adora’s shoulder. “But you’re still going back there – back to the Fright Zone?”

“I can make this right… Or at least make it better. I’m sorry, Catra. I have to do this.”

“Just…” Catra’s eyes were dark with worry. “Take care of yourself, Adora.”

Adora nodded again, then wrenched herself away to dive through the crowd of panicked princesses inside, searching for Scorpia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scorpia has the time of her life at any and every version of Princess Prom and nothing will ever convince me otherwise.
> 
> In terms of the next update - I solemnly swear it will not be a year. That being said, it's not gonna be up tomorrow, either. My goal is to have the next chapter up in approximately a month.
> 
> Until then, friends!


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